Ashen Dragon

Grace leaned on the table, barely lifting his head to look at George, his eyes revealing envy, "George, you really stole the show this time!"

Supporting his upper body with his arms, he sized up George in front of him and continued to ask, "Your Dragon Blood concentration must have reached five percent by now, right?"

Grace pointed to George's hand holding the wine glass, where faint Scarlet scales were visibly present on the back of the hand.

"Pretty much."

George nodded again, then took a sip of the strong liquor in his glass.

Grace exclaimed, "Tsk tsk, leading a ragtag team to hold your ground alone, withstanding the attack of the Abyss's most elite heavy infantry—dozens of Bazut Demons, and even killing several of them. No wonder you were awarded the Heroic Medal by the Empire."

"It was just good luck."

George looked down at the scales on the back of his hand and replied, "If I hadn't awakened my Dragon Vein midway through, I probably would have been killed there."

"Ha ha ha, Prime Minister Ramp once said that luck is also part of strength. Without that careless Mage Apprentice, that lord might just be an ordinary ogre now, and..."

Clearly drunk, Grace laughed out loud as he revealed a secret that was circulating within the Empire.

George blanched and hastily signaled him to shut up, as the Prime Minister's vindictiveness was famous throughout the nation, and Grace finally nodded in understanding.

"But... I don't envy you."

Grace collapsed back on the chair, gazing at the ceiling carved with the Dragon Claw pattern, his eyes slightly glazed.

"Life now is indeed much better than before. When I was a peasant under the Northern Nobility, who could dream of gold and silver treasures or exquisite wines and delicacies?

But... I'm really scared."

Grace's voice trembled as he shivered, a look of fear appearing on his face. He pointed at his own heart and patted it forcefully a few times.

"Did you know, George, I came so close, the demon's claw nearly pierced my chest, through my heart.

It was my most trusted subordinate who got in front of me, took on death for me, and all I could do was watch..."

George frowned slightly, "You mean..."

Grace smiled bitterly with drooping eyelids, "Although I enjoy the feeling of victory, I don't want to partake in wars anymore.

I'm constantly worried about losing everything I have, worried that all the glory and wealth might vanish into thin air."

He looked at George again, "George, you know, the Empire's next target is the South, the vast Fianso Continent.

But I'm tired of this life. I want to stay in Anzeta; they say the Emperor will grant us the strength to defend this place.

So... what about you? What's your choice?"

George hardly needed to think. He looked instinctively toward the South, his gaze burning bright.

"Of course, to conquer the South for His Majesty, to win lands under the sun for the Empire, and also to... reach the true peak for myself."

Even after drinking quite a bit, George's tone remained exceptionally firm and resolute.

"Just as I thought, you haven't changed, Baron George.

Ha ha, I hope to see you alive and become Duke of the Empire. When that time comes, I will look up and salute you."

Grace looked as if he had anticipated the answer, raising his glass again, whispering, "To the Empire."

"To the Empire."

George raised his glass, finishing the remnants of the strong liquor, a faint flame appearing in his golden eyes.

Around them, soldiers of many races—ogres, Great Goblins, Tieflings, Lizardfolk, and more—also raised their glasses, and the chorus of "To the Empire" echoed around.

Even the Dragon Vein Goblin Bill, who was also a "National Hero," said in a shrill voice.